


You Kiss Every Overwatch Hero

by dragonheals



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Fluff, Just bros being bros, Kissing, Mild Language, Multi, Reader-Insert, guns?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonheals/pseuds/dragonheals
Summary: You! Yes, you, are going to kiss all of the Overwatch heroes! (Or they'll kiss you, I don't make the rules)right what it says on the tin, gamers.
Relationships: Aleksandra "Zarya" Zaryanova/Reader, Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Reader, Hana "D.Va" Song/Reader, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Reader, Moira O'Deorain/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 107





	1. An Epic Gamer Moment

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna try and challenge myself to write a little something every day, and i figured there's no better way to do that than with overwatch x reader drabbles! this specific prompt of kissing everybody has probably been done before(and done better), but i'd love to take a crack at it! each chapter will be one hero. the reader is referred to neutrally, and can be seen as male, female, or neither! ill update tags as i write things. with all of that out of the way. . . enjoy!

You had been in Hana’s room, gaming, for eight hours straight. She was fueled by energy drinks, you were fueled by nightmares, anxiety, and the burning rage that came with fighting  _ Dark Souls _ bosses. This was a common occurrence between the two of you; you knocking on the door of her quarters at midnight and her welcoming you in with a redbull and a hug. 

She never pushed about  _ why _ you were there, and you felt in some way she understood without asking. Was it the healthiest coping mechanism? Staying up until the wee hours of the morning, plowing through game after game and only stopping when the sun came up? No, probably not. 

You chew and swallow these thoughts as you prepare to attempt beating this boss for what’s likely the fiftieth time, cracking your neck and turning to see what Hana was doing. She didn’t look much better than you did, hair tied into a messy ponytail and leg jumping under her desk.    
  


“I’m going in again,” You announce, before entering the thick cloud of fog representing a boss room. Music you’ve grown too accustomed to begins to play, and she gives you a half-hearted hoot in support. 

The winning strategy has been ingrained into your brain at this point, rolls and jabs memorized into the muscles of your fingers. Your brain is so far gone while you’re playing that you don’t even realize the boss is at half health until Hana notifies you cheerfully. You laugh(a bit manically), shoulders hunched over as you engross yourself fully into the game. It was a losing effort up until this point, going into the fight again and again without any hope of winning. But now, as the health bar drops lower and lower, you lean closer and closer to the screen, Hana cheering you on from behind, he’s on a sliver of health-

And he’s defeated, falling dramatically before disappearing into nothing more than a small collection of souls for you to collect. You stand, knees popping and ankles cramping from the sudden movement, stretching your arms and pumping your fist. The room spins, black dots filling the corner of your vision. You sway and would have definitely hit the floor if it wasn’t for Hana steading you, snickering.

“Woah, buddy.” She squeezes your shoulder. 

“Oh,  _ man! _ Oh, I could- Dude, I could kiss you right now.” You exhale, laughing. 

  
“Do it. You won’t.” She replies, her smirk a stark contrast from the sudden softness of her eyes. You were  _ really _ sleep deprived. Which is exactly why you lean in, hands resting on the slope of where her shoulders meet her neck, and kiss her. She hums, somewhat in surprise and somewhat in a sense of  _ god, finally, _ her hands finding your waist. The game controller stays on the floor for the rest of the night, right where you left it.


	2. Look Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you are cold like hairless siberian bear

You were stationed in Russia. In the middle of  _ winter. _ Despite your thick coat and gloves, your two pairs of socks, and everything else, the cold still seemed to seep into you. It bit at your nose and dried out your throat whenever you breathed in. Your instincts were telling you to find somewhere warm and safe- to settle there and hibernate like a bear until conditions improved. You had to beat those thoughts back.

“When are we supposed to be seeing signs of them, a-again?” A shiver shot through your body towards the end of your sentence, and you grit your teeth. You couldn’t appear weak, not in front of actual  _ heroes. _ Or, well,  _ hero. _ It was currently just you and Zarya, huddled in an abandoned building near where the next Talon strike was supposed to be taking place. It provided okay shelter, save for heating. The walls and roof were still intact- not many abandoned places in this world could say the same thing.

Zarya chuckles, checking her watch. 

“Jesse and Ana? Should be here any minute,” You release a hopeful breath, and watch it dissipate into the air. “Why? You’re not getting cold, are you?” She teases, and you glare at the sleeveless uniform under her jacket.

“W-Wouldn’t dream of it.” You attempt to reply snarkily, but the tremor in your voice softens the blow. Zarya clicks her tongue, shaking her head.

“Battle will warm you up,” She states, slipping her jacket off. “But until then, use.” She settles the jacket around your shoulders, and you thank her under your breath, snuggling into it as if it were a blanket. Shit, it was big enough to be one. The fabric was thick and strong, with a genuine wool lining on the inside. You could feel yourself beginning to warm up, and whether it was from the jacket or Zarya’s close proximity is up for debate.

She laughs again, and you smile subconsciously at the sound. 

“You are so small.” She pulls the hood up over your head, and you swat her hand away playfully. You’re in the middle of trying to get your fingers out of the endlessness of the sleeve when she leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the feeling of her lips lingering even as she pulls away. You freeze, only moving to breathe as she smiles(mischievously, damn her) and turns, walking to the doorway. You slowly lower your hand back to your side, cheeks finally warm from something other than windburn.

“Look alive! We are deployed in a matter of minutes.”

“R-Right!” You scramble to catch up with her, nearly tripping and falling on your ass in your haste. Look alive. You could do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no beta we die like men!!! im probably gonna try and do a popular character next, like mccree, mercy, or hanzo, so this fic can get some traction.


	3. Bro Do You Even Know Ninth Grade Lab Safety Rules?

“ _ Fuck! _ ” A strangled curse breaks the calm of the laboratory. You had burnt your arm, reaching over the table for a tool and failing to realize the presence of a quite open flame right below you. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be anything beyond the second degree, but it still hurt awfully. You had begun to break out into a sweat, the pain coming and going in sporadic waves. 

The realization of Moira approaching you didn’t register until she was right beside you. You jump at the feeling of her fingers brushing your shoulder, your eyebrows drawn and lips twisted downwards.

“I have a crazy low pain tolerance,” You breathe, chuckling to try and ease any tension  _ she _ might be feeling. “‘S why I’m not on the battlefield, heh!” Her expression remains unreadable, until she beckons your arm closer.

“Let me take a look,” It’s a command, you know it is, but it doesn’t feel like one. For that, you’re thankful. You present your bare arm, the burned area red and angry. She shakes her head, tracing her fingertips over the wound, featherlight. You hiss and your arm twitches, as if to pull away. She holds it taut. 

“Go run it under cold water,” She runs her thumb gently over the uninjured skin of your arm, before releasing it. “I’ll find an ointment.” You nod, turning towards the sinks, when she stops you again.

“Oh, and (Y/N)?” She’s still startlingly close, and you can feel heat spreading from your cheeks to the back of your neck. Before you can turn around and mutter a ‘Yeah?’, she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. It was quick-  _ formal, _ almost, but from someone like Moira you’d expect nothing less.

“Do be more careful.” Her voice is dangerously close to your ear. You can barely hear her over the thundering of your own heartbeat, and suddenly you really felt for the rabbits in this room. You felt like  _ prey.  _

“S-Sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as much as i love fluffy, usual moira/readers, i also adore the ones that have an undertone you can't quite place or an undertone that is CLEARLY the opposite of fluffy or usual. it's MOIRA, yknow? i was thinking about that while writing this, and i'm kinda unsure about the vibe i accomplished.


	4. She's Still Gonna Make Those Five Shots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ashe learns that she doesn't have to show off to gain your admiration.

Driving with Ashe always brought out the best of you. Something about the mixture of wind buffeting your face, the feeling of your arms around her middle, and the idea that there was  _ nowhere  _ you couldn’t go- it just made you giddy. To put it simply,  _ Ashe _ made you giddy. Anywhere she’d go, you’re willing to follow. You have a feeling that’s one thing she loves about you. 

The two of you were currently pulling into the parking lot of an old shooting range. It had been shut down long ago, evident by the overgrown grass, peeling paint, and faded entry sign. It was a small building, the range itself settled behind it, with booths underneath the overhang of the roof. 

“I’m assuming you’ve been here before?” You question, unclipping your motorcycle helmet and hanging it off the back of the bike. Ashe hums, swinging her rifle over her shoulder and slipping a couple packs of bullets into her pocket. You smile subconsciously at her wind-tousled hair, and the redness of her cheeks.

“A couple times, sure. I don’t quite  _ frequent  _ it, though.” You nod, turning your attention back to the building. The itch to explore was coming in full force. You take in the dusty windows, closed (and locked) door, and broken wooden fencing.

“How are we gonna get in?” You find your place by her side easily, matching her stride as you approach the building. 

“Where  _ we  _ wanna be is wide open. I’m sure there’s a way to get in there if you really wanted to, though.” As you clear the side of the building, a long expanse of field becomes visible, with ten square targets standing at the very end of it. Your eyebrows raise. 

“You could play  _ football  _ here!” Is the first thing out of your mouth, and Ashe barks a laugh.

“Go ahead, darlin’, give it a try. I always wished they had moving targets down here.” Your face grows warm. Darlin’? Does she call everyone that?

“I was just saying!” You protest, smiling despite yourself. “Why do you even need to come here, anyways? You’re a sharpshooter if I’ve ever seen one.” 

She tosses her bullets on an old, rickety table. “Would you believe me if I told you I enjoy it?” You watch her expertly load the gun, the weapon seemingly made for her hands. 

“Was that sarcasm?” Part of you is genuinely asking. 

“Yep.” The word is monotone, drawn out, and so in  _ character  _ for her, it’s enough to make laughter bubble up past your lips without warning. Like you said, she just makes you  _ giddy _ . One day you’d put more thought into that, but for right now you were content watching her, unknowingly enamored. 

She finishes loading, and aims a few times, experimentally. Her eyebrows furrow, expression growing frighteningly focused. It dissipates as soon as she lowers the gun. She is . . .  _ Really  _ pretty.

“If I can hit five bullseyes in a row, you owe me a kiss.” She says this without looking up from where she’s adjusting the sights on her rifle. You blink once, twice.

“What?” Is all you manage to blurt. Ashe’s smile is that of a fox. She raises her gun once more, and a tense three seconds pass before a sharp, loud,  _ crack  _ fills the air. After recovering from the mini heart-attack the gunshot gave you, you eye the target and whistle. Perfect bullseye.

“There’s. . . No way you’re missing five of those.” It’s a fact, really. Which leaves you all the more confused. Ashe remains silent, demeanor suddenly distant. You turn to her, and the realization of how  _ close _ she is smacks you across the face. Sunwarmed leather, sweet cologne. The scent is familiar and new all at the same time. 

“If you want a kiss, you can just ask, you know.” Your cheeks warm, and the sickly nervous feeling of being startled by gunfire gently morphs into kind butterflies, dancing along your insides. Silence hangs in the air, and somewhere, a cardinal sings. 

You’re about to say  _ something _ , anything to break the quiet that was quickly becoming awkward, when her hand finds your shoulder. That alone was enough to make your stomach flip, and you barely have time to get used to the feeling, before her lips are warm against your own. Your first instinct is to freeze, of course, but the feeling passes almost immediately as you melt under her touch. You feel like you’re bathing in a sunbeam. 

You’re breathless when she pulls away, heart fluttering in your chest like a bird. You could practically feel the wingbeats. 

She’s smiling again, and the sight is enough to lift you into the clouds, enough to put you on a swing in the stars. 

“I’m still gonna make those five shots.” 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been having some trouble writing lately, and i'm unsure if i'm entirely happy with this one, but i hope you enjoy anyways! tracer is next :eyes:


	5. Hey Google What Does It Mean When You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the softest, fluffiest thing i've written in awhile!

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and you’re laying with Lena on the couch. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; the two of you curled up with each other in some way. Lena’s a physically affectionate person by nature, and you have very few complaints about it. Days like these are merely a byproduct of how close you were with her. Platonically, of course. 

About that.

You stare at the ceiling fan above you, eyes following one blade as it makes slow circles. You and Lena hit it off as soon as you met. You were inseparable, and there’s been more times than you could count where you’ve been mistaken for a couple. For some reason, it doesn’t upset you. Should it?

Anybody would be lucky to have her. She’s funny, charismatic; not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. Her  _ eyes? _

These are. . . completely normal thoughts to have about your best friend. Everyone thinks their friends are beautiful, and charming, and worth taking a bullet for. Right?

“Lena?” You’re unsure if she’s awake. For such an energetic person, she sleeps like a rock. 

She takes a deep breath in, stretching her arm out and laying it back across your torso. Her breath tickles your neck.

“Yeah?” Her voice is quiet, muffled by the grogginess of an interrupted ten minute nap. Your heart begins a steady ascent into your throat.

“How do you. . . Know if you love someone? Like, romantically.” You continue to follow the ceiling fan blade as it circles, to distract you from the weight of Lena’s body against yours, and the sweet scent of her hair. Which never distracted you  _ before, _ but it is  _ now, _ and  _ boy  _ is it distracting. A nervous, warm feeling spreads from your face to your neck. 

She shifts, her hand finding yours like a magnet, intertwining your fingers seamlessly. 

“You look at em’ different. Compared to everyone else.” Her thumb runs over the back of your hand slowly. “They make you smile a bit wider. Maybe make you a bit more nervous- but in a good way. Y’know?” She falls silent, but the gentle movement of her thumb remains. 

“Unfortunately, I think I do.” You reply, your voice breaking the small silence. You can feel Lena smile, and it makes  _ you _ smile, even if you’re not sure why. 

“Me too.” 

Your eyebrows raise. There’s a long pause before you utter, “Who?” 

Her laugh is the sweetest thing to you. And you learn soon after that her kisses are, too. 


End file.
